Soft Kisses JohnLock
by hanako.chan030
Summary: This love was not intended. When Dr. John Hamish Watson was introduced to Sherlock Holmes, they clicked right away. Little did they know this click was love... (This story takes place BEFORE the Reichenbach fall, however, that episode will "fall" (XD) into this story a bit later)
1. Chapter 1

John bent over the body while Sherlock watched from behind. He circled Watson, watching him use Sherlock's deduction skills on this scene.

"There's a hair on his collar," Watson tilted his head and squinted his eyes. He grunted as he straightened his knees, standing straight. "It's not his."

"Brilliant!" Sherlock clapped his hands, grinning. "You have learned well. Tell me, John. How did you do it?"

"Well, he is a blonde," Watson started explaining, motioning to the victim's hair. "But I noticed a dark brown, long curly strand on his coat collar. I figured we might have a clue."

"42.5 seconds!" Sherlock shouted happily, putting his hands above his head in victory. "It's a new record for you, John!"

Sally Donovan walked into the room. "The freak has been timing John's deduction," She laughed out loud. "Quite hilarious, actually."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Donovan, you make my brain ache," he said, irritated. "Okay, John. We send the hair to the lab to test whose it is."

Sherlock rolled on a glove and grabbed an evidence bag. He plucked the hair with sterilized tweezers and dropped it in the bag, sealing it tightly shut.

He shoved it into Donovan's hands and watched her walk away. Sherlock pulled off his glove and pulled Watson in for a hug. "You are doing so well, my friend," He kissed the top of Watson's head. "Very, very well."

"Thank you, love," Watson replied, wiggling out of Sherlock's hug. "Coffee?"

"Coffee."

* * *

><p>Sherlock leaned across the table and planted a kiss on the tip of Watson's nose. John smiled and scrunched his nose, a cute gesture he did often.<p>

Sherlock sat back and sipped his coffee, watching John intently. John pulled his coffee cup to his mouth and let the steam blow onto his face before sipping it.

He licked his lips after he sat his coffee cup down. "So was my deduction really brilliant?" He asked Sherlock, smiling.

"Not as quickly as mine, but you're getting there," Sherlock replied, smugness in his voice. "You are most certainly improving. It's a slow process, but you are doing quite well."

"I've learned from the greatest," Watson grinned, scrunching his nose again.

"God I love when you do that," Sherlock whispered under his breath. Watson's grin slowly faded into a small smile.

"What?" He asked, furrowing his brows.

"When you scrunch your nose like that," Sherlock repeated, louder this time. "It's bloody adorable, that's what it is."

Watson smiled, scrunching his nose intentionally this time. Sherlock exhaled deeply and sunk down into the bench, grinning.

* * *

><p>When Watson came through the door, Mycroft and Sherlock were in the living room bickering. "Sherlock, if you can't play it right, I don't want to hear it!" Mycroft stared hard at the violin in Sherlock's hand.<p>

"I'm messing up the song to get you out of our flat!" Sherlock snapped back at him, pulling the strings. It emitted a high-pitch screeching noise, making Watson cringe.

"I suppose I'm never leaving then," Mycroft crossed his arms. They both noticed John standing there. "Ah, John!"

"Welcome back, love!" Sherlock sat his violin aside and got up from the chair. He crossed the room and pulled John in for a hug. Brushing his nose on Watson's cheek, he whispered in Watson's ear, "Get rid of Mycroft, please."

Watson nodded and turned to Mycroft. "Would you like to walk downstairs with me?" He asked. Mycroft sat there for a minute, his lips pouted as he thought.

"Yes, that would be nice," He nodded, getting up. "I was leaving anyways. I can't stand to hear another minute of that awful violin playing."

When Mycroft turned his back away and began going down the stairs, Sherlock started smiling and dancing in this pleasant victory.

John and Mycroft walked downstairs and they stood out in the crisp morning. "Dr. Watson," Mycroft began, turning to John. "You need to know something about Sherlock. As you know, I only mean to protect him."

"Yes indeed," John nodded. "You told me this on the first day we met."

"As you may know, Sherlock has recovered from drugs; But not completely. I still worry for him, and I want you to make sure he doesn't resort back to drugs," Mycroft explained, turning back away from Watson and watching the cars pass on the street. "If nicotine patches help him keep his mind off drugs, then he must continue using them."

"Okay," Watson sighed. Swirls of his hot breath blew around in front of his face. "I will try my hardest to protect him from drugs."

"Don't protect him, that's my job," Mycroft hailed a cab. "I shall see you soon, John." Mycroft climbed into the cab and waved once before shutting the door.

John stood there for a moment until the cab pulled away. He went back inside the flat and upstairs, to find Sherlock playing a beautiful song on his violin.

"Is he gone?" Sherlock stopped his playing briefly, looking up at Watson.

"Yes," John sat down in a chair and stretched his leg out to prevent it from getting stiff. "You know Sherlock; he is only trying to protect you."

"He's only trying to be a pain in my arse," Sherlock sat his violin aside and looked at John. "What was he talking to you about?"

"Something about your drug addiction and how I should do my very best to prevent it," Watson pretended as if he hadn't been paying attention to the conversation with Mycroft.

"Of course!" Sherlock shouted, zapping up out of the seat and onto his feet. "He always brings up the drug addiction! Don't fall for that trick; I am 100 percent keen. Drug free."

"I worry about you just as much as he does," Watson replied to this statement.

"You have a worrying problem, then," Sherlock said, laughing at his stupid little joke. "No, I understand you want me to be ok."

Sherlock got on his knees in front of Watson so their faces were at the same height. He leaned in and gave Watson a quick kiss, his hands on both of John's knees.

John kissed back, moving his hands to the back of Sherlock's head. He entwined his fingers in the thick black curls and closed his eyes.

"Forgot my umbrella," Mycroft said from behind them. "Oh. Sorry to ruin the moment."

They stopped their kiss and both looked at Mycroft. Mycroft smiled sheepishly and picked up his umbrella. "Adorable," he said on his way out.

Sherlock got up and went over to his chair and sat down, picking up his violin again to resume his song.


	2. Chapter 2

"We don't need two rooms anymore," Sherlock said to Watson. "If we share a room, then we can turn your old room into an experiment lab so you don't have to find a severed head in the fridge ever again."

"That means we would have to get two beds for the same room…" Watson's eyebrows shot up as he caught on. "Oh."

Sherlock stirred his tea and sat back in his chair. "Innocence," He chuckled. "Naïve."

"Jerk," John said back to him. He crossed the room with his mug in hand, sitting across from Sherlock. "Do we have a case today?"

"Not that I know of," Sherlock sat his mug down and pulled out his phone. "No, none."

Watson sighed. "I suppose this is going to be a boring day, huh?"

"Not for me!" Sherlock got up from his chair. "I'm going to conduct an experiment on a rat!" He began walking across the room.

"Are you going to kill a poor rat?" Watson asked Sherlock.

Sherlock stopped, a look of offense spreading across his face. "Me? Never! What could possess you to put that silly idea in your mind?!"

"Remember the time I found a dead rat in the sink?" John asked. "_You _killed it!"

"I simply saw how long they can survive without food," Sherlock said as if it was no big deal.

"You _starved _it!"

"Did not!" Sherlock crossed his arms and walked back over to John. "_You _just don't understand science!"

Watson crossed his arms in the same fashion as Sherlock and left the room. He returned with a jar that contained a human finger. "Uh-huh. So this is science?"

"Most certainly," Sherlock smiled. "How long does it take for a human finger to rot if it is held in water? Precisely 4 days!"

"That is not science, that's cruel!" John complained. He was silent for a minute as he thought. "Where did you even get a human finger?!"

"Questions, questions," Sherlock laughed. "Put my finger back, love."

Watson went back into the kitchen and stored the jar in the cupboard he found it in.

Sherlock followed him in and came up behind him, wrapping his arms around him. Watson leaned back into Sherlock's chest, feeling his warmth.

"I lied, we have a case," Sherlock said softly. "I just really wanted to test a rat today."

"I'm glad we have a case," Watson sighed. "Because Mr. Holmes, I will not allow you to kill a poor rat."

* * *

><p>Sherlock and Watson walked onto the scene, which was in the middle of a dense forest.<p>

"Body's rotten," Sherlock sniffed the air. He stood over the body for a minute, taking in the basic details. "John, evaluate," He finally said. He moved aside and started studying the rest of the scene.

John moved forward and looked at the body, eventually kneeling down and studying the woman. "She's been here for a few days, maybe 4? Young woman, in her early 20's," he said. He opened her mouth and sniffed. "A hint of alcohol, she drank before she was murdered."

"So _stupid!" _Sherlock exclaimed. Everybody turned to face him. "Fingerprints on this woman's wrists, obviously dragged. Blood streaks are coming from the road, but they stop at the road. Most likely an 'in the moment' murder."

"He just dumped the body? Lestrade asked. Sherlock laughed, bending backward a bit with his laugh.

"She. Well, a He, I suppose. Obviously someone who dresses as a woman. He has the strength of a man, but guess what fell out of his pocket? Lipstick!" Sherlock explained, pulling light pink lipstick from behind his back.

"Maybe our victim wears lipstick," Lestrade inputted.

"No, no. Our victim has clean lips. If she wore lipstick recently, there would be tiny specks of this color around her mouth- flecks a cleaner couldn't remove in just one wash."

"We need to find out whose fingerprints those belong to," Sherlock finished up, dropping the lipstick in an evidence bag. He would be needing it for later.

* * *

><p>"Daniel Abbott," Lestrade gave Sherlock the man's file. "29, known to people as <em>Miss Danielle."<em>

Sherlock smiled. "John!" He said happily. "Time for a house visit!"

* * *

><p>Sherlock knocked on Daniel's door. A baby faced man opened the door. He was wearing a well-placed wig, but Sherlock could see brown hairs sticking out from under the blonde, curly hair.<p>

Sherlock noticed the pink lipstick on his lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and compared it to the color of the lipstick he found on the ground at the scene. Ding! He had the right man!

He opened his eyes. "Hello, Miss Danielle!" He put a fake smile on his face. "I would like to discuss with you my company's makeup brand!" He said in the sassiest voice he could muster.

"Yes, of course!" Daniel brightened up. "Come in! I just got finished making some peppermint tea!"

Sherlock was welcomed into the living room. They sat down, Daniel a bit too close to Sherlock.

"So…." Daniel's hand was on Sherlock's inner thigh. Sherlock gulped nervously. "What kind of makeup are you selling?"

"Pink lipstick!" Sherlock pulled out the brand of lipstick Daniel was wearing. "Like this one I found at the murder scene of Margaret Welch, _Daniel._"

"_Don't call me that!"_He shot up, screaming. He flipped the coffee table, sending items to shatter against the walls. "Stupid bitch thought I was gay! No! I am a woman, pure woman! She deserved to die!"

Sherlock laughed and sipped his peppermint tea. Lestrade, Watson, and a few other cops came in through the front door to arrest Daniel.

"You're quite stupid," Sherlock said to Daniel. "Next time, cut up the body. _Princess." _

Daniel spit in Sherlock's face, shouting inaudible words. He was removed from the house quickly.

Sherlock grabbed a tissue from his pocket and wiped the spit off his face, calmly. "John, he was flirting with me."

Watson wasn't paying attention. "What?" He asked, turning back to Sherlock.

"Never mind."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

When Watson woke up, Sherlock was already lounging in his chair, flipping through channels on the telly. He landed on the news and sat there in silence.

"Good morning," Watson said, walking past him to grab the newspaper. He walked back to his chair and flopped down, kicking his feet up. "Anything good on the news?"

"Boring!" Sherlock wasn't paying attention to Watson. He flicked off the TV for a minute before he turned to Watson. "Oh, good morning dear."

"Have you had your coffee yet?" Watson asked, reading through the paper. It was silent, so he looked up and saw Sherlock shaking his head. "Answering would be nice."

"I'm going to make coffee," Sherlock hopped out of the chair and onto his feet. "Would you like a cup?"

"Most certainly," John's eyes landed on a certain snippet in the paper. "Huh. Police are looking for a little girl. She went missing a week ago."

Sherlock was in the kitchen. "Describe her," He shouted back to Watson. Watson read through the description.

"Uhm… brown hair, brown eyes. Pale skin, she was wearing a little pink dress when she went missing," John described, shouting back to Sherlock. "Mum says they were at the store when she went missing."

Sherlock walked out of the kitchen. "Picture?" He asked. Watson held it up for him to see. "She got separated from her mum. Saw her at the store sitting on a bench alone. Call in and tell them what I just said."

"You saw her alone and you didn't do anything?" Watson asked. Sherlock opened his mouth, but Watson cut him off. "No. Don't you dare say you didn't deduct anything bad about her."

"She looked nervous, a bit scared. She was picking at her nails," Sherlock said. "I figured her mum just disciplined her."

"I'm gonna call the number, then," He said, grabbing his mobile from the side table.

Sherlock went back into the kitchen to pour the coffee into cups. He put sugar in his, but none in Watson's. He came back into the living room to find John giving details to the police.

"That's all I know," He said into his phone. "You have a nice day as well. Goodbye." His phone clicked and he sat it down, looking over at Sherlock.

"Coffee for you," Sherlock gave him his cup. "Have we got any clients?"

"Tons, our inbox is filling up quickly," John sipped his coffee. "I've already chosen one. She won't leave us alone. Been sending messages for days."

"Ooh, fun! Must be important," Sherlock chugged down his coffee quickly. "Message her back and tell her 221b Baker Street. 11:30, perhaps?"

"Will do," John moved over to his computer and started typing away.

The woman walked in. She was tall, about as tall as Sherlock. She wore her long, blonde hair in a ponytail that fell over her shoulder. Watson invited her to sit down.

Sherlock was already sitting in his chair. "What is it?" He asked.

"Well, as I said in my messages, it's about who killed my husband, Harvey. The actual murder happened a few months ago, but I know who did it."

"Who did it?" Sherlock asked.

"Uh, Harvey raped a little boy, and the mother of the boy killed Harvey," The woman said. She watched Sherlock start laughing loudly. "How is this funny?"

Sherlock collected himself, taking deep breaths. "He raped a boy; of _course _the mom was going to kill him!" Sherlock started laughing again. "Case….closed..," He said in between breaths.

"Just, study the case," The woman pleaded. "I beg you. I want the family of the mother to know."

Sherlock got up. He paced back and forth in front of the woman sitting there. "Explain to me the story of the mom and her child." He stopped in front of her and bent forward a little bit.

"O-okay," She stammered. "Well, my husband, Harvey, lived in America for a bit. He molested 14 boys in total. We moved to England, his birthplace, after rumors started swirling around a bit. I began our divorce soon. When Lisa found out where he lived, she came and killed him. Castrated him, I believe. I came home and found him and I screamed and called the police."

"Boring!" Sherlock shouted, sitting down. "Tell me what drove the mom to kill him."

"The child was Adam. He was molested. Lisa could never get it out of her son who violated him. She found out eventually it was Harvey, but we had already moved. She came and killed him. I know she did. Then she hung herself due to guilt. I know this," She explained.

"What is your name again?" John asked, pulling out a piece of paper and a pencil.

"Alexandra Cooper."

* * *

><p>"I suppose I'm going to Lisa's house in the states, love," Sherlock said. "Would you like to join me?"<p>

"No," Watson shook his head. "I have to find out more about this case. Studying a suicide will only slow me down."

"Okay," Sherlock kissed the top of John's head. "I'll see you in a week or less."

Watson watched Sherlock leave the flat and then he pulled out the file, pursing his lips as he thought. She was quite obviously lying, but how could Sherlock not see that?

He flipped through her case file and the crime scene file of Harvey. He read through a few times until his eyes finally landed on a bit of information. He smiled. "Money was withdrawn from the bank just before the murder. But all other money and possessions were left after she fled from England," he said out loud to himself. "This is brilliant!"

He got up and walked over to his computer, pulling it up. He determined the average cost of renting a house in the U.S and then looked at the money withdrawn. A bit more, so she would need the extra for food and necessities.

Exactly 4 months of living in the states. Enough to get the matter to go down and everybody to forget the murder.

He grinned and sat down in the chair, typing away an email to Sherlock. "He needs to know this."

* * *

><p>A few hours after the email was sent, Sherlock replied, "The hanging wasn't suicide. Too much struggle on the woman's neck. Too many bruises on it, which wouldn't be caused from the rope. There wasn't even a chair! So stupid!"<p>

Watson quickly determined Alexandra had something to do with this. He typed an email back to Sherlock telling him he was going to get Ms. Cooper to talk.

He pulled open voice chat and contacted Alexandra. It rang for a few moments, and then she picked up. "Dr. Watson, I presume? Anything about Lisa?"

"Ah, Ms. Cooper-"

Her face turned serious. "Call me Ms. Hall, if you don't mind," She said quickly, cutting him off.

"Ms. Hall..." Watson corrected himself, studying her. "Anyways, could you please tell me why you took money out of the bank?"

She sighed deeply. "I-I believe I had enough to survive. I-I j-just c-couldn't live like that, knowing everybody knew my husband was a ped…. Pedophile." She was stuttering again, her pupils as thin as pins.

"Ah," was Watson's reply. "Okay then, I believe that's all I really need to know. Oh, wait! One more question! How do you suppose Lisa found out Harvey's location?"

"I have no idea," She said quickly, as if to defend herself. "Good day, Dr. Watson."

Watson clicked off the face chat and leaned back, smiling. He had a breakthrough in the case.

* * *

><p>Sherlock returned a week later. He sat Watson down and showed him the pictures he took of Lisa's body. "She couldn't have killed herself like that. She had nothing to stand on, for one thing. It was too high above the ground, she couldn't have just <em>jumped. <em>No, no, no. She didn't hang herself. She was murdered."

"I deducted properly this time," Watson said smugly. "Would you like to know what I deducted?"

"I would love to," Sherlock said, balling his hands up and putting them on his chin. "Enlighten me, John."

John stood up and faced the seat where Alexandra was sitting a week earlier. "The murder was done out of shock. She castrated him before stabbing him, but he was clearly tied down while she did it. She was scared after it was done; she had to get out somehow. She had been planning this for days, however. The money was extracted a day prior to this, meaning she had known about his pedophilia before this. But! She had known in America, which is why they fled. He promised that pedophilia was behind him, and he promised to never do it again. She came home from the store one day and found him violating a child in their bed. Enraged, she got rid of the child… quickly. She killed him and dumped the body to make sure that the parents never knew. She promised him that something would happen to him. She took money out the day after and then killed him the day after that. In fear of what she had done... Twice, she fled to America, where they came from."

"She came back after she began to run low on money. But that is not the full reason! Lisa was planning on talking to the police about the murder of Harvey. She got scared because they would reopen the case. She killed Lisa by hanging her, but because of the struggle, it didn't look as if the woman kicked the chair from under herself. Alexandra got rid of this woman and she came back here to tell you that the mom killed herself so they would think the mom was the one who killed Harvey and guilt forced her to kill herself." John explained

"That was quite good," Sherlock replied, a smile curling on his lips. "Explain, love, how you did it. How you got that deduction."

"I first noticed Alexandra was lying the first time she talked to us. I went through the case and saw that money had been withdrawn from the bank a day before she 'ran into' the murder. Lies! I delved deeper and found children missing from the area. Why would she move with him and then kill him? He had to have done something in England to make her angry. A little boy went missing in the park," Watson said, sitting back down. "He needed that sense of pleasure. He kidnapped the boy. Alexandra killed him and the boy, but Adam's mom was going to reopen the case, just to get money from Alexandra for the case. Alexandra had to fix this somehow…"

"You are so brilliant," Sherlock smiled. "So, we get Lestrade to arrest her on 3 counts of murder, then perhaps a bit of robbery from his bank account?"

"Indeed."

"I can't believe how amazing you have gotten with deduction. However, it took you a whole week. It took me 3 minutes of reading the file and studying Alexandra," Sherlock replied.

"Oh, now you're just showing off."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Watson went into the kitchen, dropping bags of groceries on the table. He rubbed his cold hands together for warmth as he walked out into the living room.

Sherlock had his head in his hands; he was tapping his foot impatiently. "Sherlock?" Watson asked. "Are you okay?"

"Fine!" Sherlock shouted, scaring Watson. He stood up and paced back and forth in front of Watson. "I need them," he said to Watson.

"You're doing okay, Sherlock," Watson tried to step forward. "You have completely quit. Don't pick up again."

"It's so _hard," _Sherlock said, breathing heavily. "It was so nice to forget the life around me when I was on drugs. John, I need them."

"No, we just have to get you a new case," Watson walked forward and grabbed Sherlock's shoulder, making him stop the pacing. "You'll forget."

"What happens when the case is done?!" Sherlock pulled back out of Watson's touch, staggering backwards into his chair. "What happens? Those hours or days in between a case. Drugs are on my mind 24/7. I need them."

"We just need to find something to keep your mind off of drugs," John suggested, watching his lover put his head back into his hands. "Like a date, maybe."

"A _date?" _Sherlock repeated. Suddenly, he was overcome with laughter. He tossed his head back in these deep laughs. "A d-date?! John Watson, that's the best joke I've heard in centuries. Thank you, love."

"I'm serious, Sherlock!" Watson stepped forward. "We have never had an actual date! Almost 2 years we've been together and I have yet to see us on a date!"

"A date?" Sherlock kept repeating. "John, you know I'm no good with relationships. Too hard. A date would be _much _too hard."

"Bloody hell!" Watson snapped, grabbing his coat and putting it back on. "It was a simple suggestion, and you can never accept anything of that sort!"

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. "Did I make you angry?"

Watson's face grew red. "Fresh _air," _he said simply, slamming the door behind him on the way out.

"I made him angry," Sherlock sat back, holding his head. "Oh god, what did I do?"

Sherlock got up and walked over to the window and looked down. Watson was screaming at a poor, random stranger, something he did when he was mad. Sherlock chuckled as the man picked up his bag and ran away from Watson.

Sherlock zoomed his eyesight in and saw Watson take in deep breaths, and the red in his face slowly fading. He stood out in the cold for minutes before coming back in.

Sherlock flopped on the chair and sat there as if he was thinking. When Watson came through the door, Sherlock said, "Poor man, at the bad end of Watson's rage."

Watson drew in deep breaths, calming himself down again. "Needed to take it out somewhere," John said, his fists clearly clenched. "And Sherlock-"

Sherlock got up from his seat and grabbed both of Watson's hands. "John Watson, will you…" Sherlock coughed, clearing his throat. "Uh, would you go on a d-da… d-d-date…. With me?" Sherlock stammered, making it clearly shown he was incapable of doing this smoothly.

"Date. With. Me?" He said it slower this time.

Watson smiled widely. "Of course I'll go on a date with you!" He threw his arms around Sherlock, who stood uncomfortably.

"Uhm. Yay!" He said as if he was being forced. "Is that what you're supposed to say when you don't get rejected?"

"Close enough," John snuggled his face into Sherlock's chest. Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text. "What in god's name are you doing?"

"Setting up a date," Sherlock murmured, signing it with his trademark _SH. _"Nothing much. Just a simple date."

"This better not be a candlelit dinner over a dead body, Sherlock," John said, shaking his head.

"I would never!"

* * *

><p>It was nighttime, and Watson had no idea where he was going. His eyes were screwed shut. Sherlock was pulling his hand, leading him. "Almost there, and then you can open your eyes," He smiled. They stopped at the destination and Sherlock snapped his finger for the guy to start playing.<p>

As soon as John opened his eyes, he was met by beautiful violin music. They were standing next to a river, where a blanket was laid down. Tea cups and food was littered on the blanket.

Sherlock invited him to sit down by kissing his hand. Watson smiled and sat down. He looked up at the violin player, wondering why Sherlock wasn't performing.

He looked back at Sherlock, who was grinning. "Is it good enough?" Sherlock asked, motioning his hand to everything.

"It's absolutely lovely," Watson smiled back, feeling a new warmth in his heart. Sherlock was preparing to pour tea into the cups when the violin player messed up a note.

Sherlock cringed and frowned. "I pay you a good penny to perform nicely!" He snapped, jumping up and grabbing the violin from the guy. He played the song up to the point where the note was missed, and Sherlock played it properly. He stopped and shoved it back into the guy's hands. "Bloody hell. One job, couldn't even do that right! Get out of here!"

The man, in fear, shuffled away from the date, muttering a few choice words under his breath. Sherlock took a deep breath and turned back to Watson. "I apologize. I just really, _really _wanted this night to be perfect, love."

"No, its fine," Watson smiled, gazing up at Sherlock. "It's really nice. I never thought Sherlock Holmes would ask me on a date!"

"Surprising things happen all the time," Sherlock smiled back at Watson. He took his seat again, pulling his coat collar down so his face was revealed. He finished pouring his cup of tea and passed it to Watson.

"Cheers," they clinked cups together. Sherlock began sipping his tea when the violin player from earlier came back, holding a gun to Sherlock's head.

"Can we have a nice date without somebody wanting to _kill _me?!" Sherlock shouted, standing up. He knocked the gun out of the guys hand and grabbed him by the coat collar. He threw the man into the cold river.

"Why did you do that?!" The man shouted at the top of his lungs, shock in his voice.

"I'm trying to have a nice date!" Sherlock bellowed back at the man. He turned to John. "Sorry, once again. Last disturbance of the night, I promise."

"If a helicopter from the Russian government swoops down to kidnap you, I'm going to explode," John joked, sipping his tea.

Sherlock chuckled back at Watson's joke. "Not the Russian government, but the Japanese…"

"Sherlock Holmes!" Watson laughed, throwing a balled up napkin at him.

Sherlock smiled and caught the napkin. "Just a joke, probably not really funny," He grinned. "I'm no good at social interactions."

"How are you so good at the human mind, yet you can't hold a human conversation for very long?" Watson said into his tea cup.

"The human mind is so _simple, _yet so _hard_," Sherlock stared up at the sky as he spoke. He looked down at John after he finished speaking. "You're the only person I truly understand."

"I always found myself to be a bit complex," John replied. "I figured that's why I could never hold a relationship before this."

"I don't even understand how you can tolerate me sometimes," Sherlock reached across the picnic setup and grabbed John's hand.

"Well, for one thing, you _care_. And the second reason is your intelligence," Watson said. "And as Irene Adler once said-"

"Brainy is the new sexy," They said in unison, followed by a series of laughs.

"Do you have a third reason?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"I've got a hundred reasons, love," Watson grinned. "But my third one for the night is cheekbones."

"Cheekbones?" Sherlock repeated. "Oh yeah! _My _cheekbones!"

"Yes, your cheekbones," Watson had a soft smile on his face. "What about me?"

Sherlock took a second. "Cute button nose that's pointed at the tip, the way you scrunch your nose like it's a habit, how red your face gets when you're angry, always arguing back even when you know I'm right," He listed off a few things. "Oh, but there's tons more."

Watson was blushing. "Do I really argue back when I'm wrong?" He asked.

"Let's take yesterday's case, for example. I said it was murder, you said suicide. I gave facts and after you realized your argument was invalid, you still continued to argue back," Sherlock explained. "It was cute, but I'm always right. You should know that by now!"

"You're not _always _right," Watson shot back in a jokingly-harsh way. "You got the deduction of my sister wrong!"

"Okay, I was wrong once!" Sherlock said back to him.

It was silent and then they burst into laughs again. Sherlock could imagine Mycroft coming up behind them and scolding them. _Stop acting like children, _he would say.

"John Watson, this is the most fun I've had in ages," Sherlock smiled. "Thank you."

"We need to do this more often," Watson said, receiving a nod in agreement from Sherlock.

"Ready for dessert? Sherlock asked. He went to grab a covered container when a woman fell on the setup.

"Help!" She grabbed Watson's coat collar. "H-he's going to kill me!"

Sherlock got up and looked around while Watson helped the woman up. He noticed blood coming down her leg.

"Sherlock, we need to get her to a hospital!" Watson was panicking. He didn't want to just investigate where the blood was coming from. She seemed traumatized enough as it was. He started helping her limp away from the river, in case she fell into the ice cold water.

Sherlock spotted a figure and lunged at it. Watson stopped helping the woman limp away and sat her down on the ground. "I'll be right back," He said softly.

Watson ran after Sherlock. Sherlock had the man pinned down and he was punching him over and over.

Watson had to pry him off of the man. "Sherlock, stop!" He shouted. Sherlock pulled back and looked at his bloody fists, then at the man.

"Check the woman and make sure she's okay," Sherlock said. Watson went over to the woman and asked her if she was okay.

"I-I'm fine," She whispered. She was balled up, and when Watson realized she was nearly naked, he gave her his coat.

"I'm calling the ambulance," Sherlock came up behind them with his mobile.

* * *

><p>"Well, that date was fun last night," Watson said to Sherlock, setting his cup of coffee on the side table. "Once again, I never thought Sherlock Holmes, the great and mighty half-human detective, would ask me on a date."<p>

"Half-human?" Sherlock arched his eyebrows. "You are so funny, John, so funny that I can't even laugh."

"Your sarcasm is quite noticeable," Watson shot back to him. "What do you think happened to that violin guy from last night? I didn't see him swim away. Oh, god! Do you think he drowned?!"

"I sure hope so," Sherlock grinned. "Messed up the poor song. I should have thrown him into a giant pit of hot tar. With the violin."

"You are… crazy," Watson shook his head, laughing. "Wishing death upon a man who messed up a single note. Sherlock, we all make mistakes."

"Ordinary people make mistakes," Sherlock tilted his head, squinting his eyes. "You must be ordinary."

"Oh, _I'm _ordinary?" John said back. He held his leg up slightly and pointed at it. "This wounded baby is not ordinary, me saving your life practically every day is not ordinary. Babysitting the world's smartest man is not ordinary."

Sherlock was silent. A small smile spread on his face, with a sort of derpy look to it. "You think I am the smartest man in the world?" He asked smugly.

"I know you're the smartest man in the world!" Watson grunted as he flopped down in his chair. "I just know you act like you never grew up. You act as if you are a 5 year old genius trapped inside a grown man's body."

Sherlock giggled. "That's a preposterous idea," He giggled loudly. "A 5 year old genius? Well I suppose it is possible, look at how brilliant I was when I was a child. You're right, John. Perhaps I grew but I never _grew"_

"I'm right?" Watson repeated out loud, furrowing his brows in confusion. "Sherlock Holmes, did you just admit I'm right? I'm right…"

"No, you're wrong," Sherlock chuckled. "You should have seen the look on your face, John."

"You're an arsehole," Watson snapped, his cheeks turning red with slight anger. "Bloody hell."

Sherlock got up and crossed over to Watson, kneeling in front of him. He laid a kiss on the tip of Watson's nose, his fingers cradling John's chin. He moved down a little bit and kissed Watson on the lips. A quick, little kiss. Then he pulled away and got up to go sit back down in his chair.

Watson's face was no longer red. He was smiling at Sherlock, fluttering his eyes. Sherlock smiled back at him, kicking his feet up.

"Scrunch your nose," Sherlock demanded. Watson looked confused and then thought of their conversation at the Coffee Shop.

He scrunched his nose for Sherlock, getting the best reply. "Gah~" Sherlock said, sinking into his seat with a grin on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock threw himself onto the couch, making the whole thing creak. "So _bored!" _He shouted. John was out doing whatever Watson did when Sherlock was asleep, and Ms. Hudson wasn't around to make him tea.

He flipped over onto his side, then onto his back, and then onto his other side. "Gah!" He finally shouted in frustration.

There was a knock on their door. "Hmm… client?" Sherlock said out loud. He went over to the door and opened it. Sure enough, a woman stood there, soggy tissues drenched with tears in her hand.

"There's something wrong with my child, Mr. Holmes," The woman opened with, knowing that Sherlock got easily bored unless you cut right to the details.

"Sorry, John isn't here to assist, I can't help you," Sherlock slammed the door in her face. He waited a second and then opened it back up. "Wait. Did you say child?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes," The lady wiped her cheeks. "Can you please help me?"

"Yes, yes," Sherlock patted her shoulder and pulled out his mobile.

_Emergency. Crying lady client. Come at once! SH_

_I'm having breakfast with Ms. Hudson, I'll be over in about ten minutes_

_**NOW**__ SH_

"My partner will be here in 2 minutes," Sherlock smiled at the lady.

* * *

><p>John and Sherlock entered the woman's flat. It smelled heavily of cigarettes and household cleaners.<p>

"The girl's room is back here," The woman, introducing herself as Amy, said. Amy pushed open the white door. There were two little girls playing with dolls.

"Okay!" The one with blonde hair said happily. "Let's switch!"

The brunette glared at her. "No! I'm playing the mom forever!"

"Okay.."

Sherlock stepped into the room. "Hate to interrupt, children, but why should little, uh-"

"Holly," Amy said.

"Why should little Holly continue to play as the father, when it would only be fair to switch?" Sherlock continued.

The brunette glared at him. "And who the bloody hell are you?" The little seven year old snapped.

Sherlock was shocked at her mature language. "Janice! Take that _back!" _Amy shouted, running over and covering the little girl's mouth. "Mr. Holmes, I certainly am sorry."

Sherlock walked across the room and studied an empty hamster cage. He knelt down and eyed it. "Where's the hamster?"

"He escaped, a little while ago I think," Amy replied, removing her hand from Janice's mouth.

"Janice, what did you do with it?" Sherlock asked suddenly, turning to look over his shoulder. "I know you either released it or did _something _to it."

Amy opened her mouth to protest. She closed it quickly when Janice stood up, bold and proud.

"I killed it!" She snapped at him. "And I _liked _it!"

"You killed Chubs?!" Holly shouted, starting to cry. Amy gasped, holding her hand over her mouth.

"Hey, Holly, why don't we leave here," John stepped in finally. He ran over and grabbed the little girl's hand and guided her from the room. "Janice didn't really kill chubs; I bet he's around here somewhere…"

The door closed behind them, and Amy and Sherlock turned back to Janice. "Janice, how could you?" Amy asked in shock. "I can't believe you'd kill our hamster!"

"Damn thing made a mess all the time!" The vulgar child said angrily.

"Where is it?" Sherlock asked calmly, while Amy was breaking down.

Janice got a car for the dolls and popped open the trunk. There lied a dead hamster. Amy started sobbing. "Stuffed him in here to shut him up, but he died. He's our murder victim."

"Amy, I think it would be best if you went and comforted Holly," Sherlock said. "I need to deduct this without a blubbering adult in the room."

"You're not gonna hurt her, right?" Amy asked. Sherlock chuckled.

"I'm not a monster."

Amy got up and ran from the room, still crying. Sherlock closed the door and then pulled up a chair. "Sit, Janice."

Janice sat instantly. "I like you, Mr. Holmes," She grinned. "You called my mum a blubbering adult."

"Which was not nice of me to do," Sherlock sat down on the floor, pushing the car with the hamster out of view. "How did you feel when you killed Chubs?"

"Happy. The stupid thing was being mean. He bit me once, so I hit him. He never acted the same again," Janice explained, crossing her legs. "Holly loved the thing, which made me want to hurt the thing more."

"Do you not like Holly?" Sherlock asked, eyeing the child. She acted like an adult. It was very unnatural for a child to act so mature.

"I hate her," Janice looked over at her bed. "Sometimes I wished I could kill her. Stuff _her _in a car trunk. I've almost stabbed her multiple times."

Sherlock took this news as a shock. "You want to kill your sister?"

"You're a detective, right?" Janice asked. "You've seen a lot of murders. Tell me, sir. How do I kill her and no one will know?"

"You're an awful, vulgar, and psychotic child," Sherlock finally said sternly. "Wanting to kill little Holly? Saying such awful things to an adult? Terrible."

"Bastard," Janice squinted her eyes. Sherlock stood up and began to walk away, when the girl attacked him. She pulled out scissors from her pocket and stabbed him in the leg.

"Damn!" He shouted, knocking the girl off him. She landed on the ground with a thump, breathing heavy.

John and Amy came running. "Janice? Did you stab him?" Amy shouted at the little girl. She ran over and back handed the girl hard, and then started crying.

"Sherlock?" John rushed over and knelt down next to him. "Don't pull out the scissors. Blood will go everywhere. We'll get you to a doctor!"

"You're a damn doctor!" Sherlock snapped. "Pull the thing out! Argh! It burns bad John!"

"Well, she hit a vein, I think," Watson investigated. "We have to get you to a doctor. Uh. I think I can help, though."

Watson grabbed Sherlock's scarf from around his neck and pulled out the scissors quickly, making Sherlock shout curse words. He wrapped the scarf tightly around Sherlock's leg.

"Call Lestrade, you arse," Sherlock said. Watson rolled his eyes and pulled out his mobile, dialing Lestrade.

* * *

><p>Sherlock left the hospital out of the window later that afternoon, despite doctors wanting to "keep an eye on him". He went back to the flat to find out where Janice ended up.<p>

Watson was there, waiting for him. "Stop leaving the hospital," Watson complained. "They're gonna start admitting you for good."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and pulled up the internet. He checked the news everywhere and then emailed Amy.

It was almost an instant reply.

_Mr. Holmes, the police returned Janice to us. They said she wasn't a threat and you provoked her._

_I fear for Holly. Please come at once. It's urgent._

_-Amy_

Sherlock grabbed his coat. "John, she said it's urgent," He said, grabbing a new scarf and wrapping it around his neck. "We need to go."

"How urgent?" John asked, standing up.

"Janice is back at home."

"Are you seriously going to go back to the little girl who _stabbed _you?" John asked him, eyeing him.

"There are two females in danger, John," Sherlock grabbed Watson's hand and dragged him out of the flat quickly.

Sherlock pushed open the door to the flat when nobody answered. "This is breaking in," John whispered as they walked through the halls towards Janice and Holly's room.

Sherlock tried to turn the door handle to no avail. He jiggled it a few times before the door popped open. Holly stood there, tears running down her face.

"H-hi Mr. Holmes," She stuttered, clearly scared. The door opened up a bit more to reveal Janice holding a gun to Holly's head.

"Janice, where did you get a gun?" Sherlock asked.

"Got it off of one of those policemen that took me away," She smiled. "I think his badge said… Anderson? Studying the scene or something."

"Damn it Anderson!" Sherlock snapped, as if he was standing there with them. "Janice, if you don't want to be taken away, put the gun down. We won't hurt you if you put the gun down."

"You were gonna hurt me?" Janice lowered her hand a little and looked at them with big eyes. Tears formed and then she raised the gun towards John, who stood a bit terrified. "I'll just hurt him. Destroy your gay love."

John looked at Sherlock and then Janice. Sherlock stepped in front of Janice and put his hands out, motioning for the gun. Janice just wiped her eyes on her shoulder and moved her finger to the trigger.

"Janice," Amy said from the back of the room. "Look at me, honey." Janice looked over her shoulder at her mom. "Pay attention to me, not those men. Holly loves you. I love you. Don't do this."

Sherlock took this distraction as a chance to grab the gun. He grabbed Janice's arm and attempted to pull the gun from it. She snapped her gaze back to him and bit his arm hard.

Sherlock released her in pain and almost decked the little girl. "Bloody-!" He began to say, but stopped himself.

"She's going first," Janice recovered and shot the gun at Holly, who stood there terrified.

"Holly, no!" Amy ran over and grabbed the girl who fell on the ground. She held her in her arms and cried.

Sherlock huffed one last time. "That is _it." _He groaned. He stomped over to the little girl and ripped the gun from her hands, throwing It to Watson. "You are the most disrespectful little murderer I have _ever _met in my life. Do you want to go to _prison? _Maybe be deported to the states with a group of teen murderers?"

Janice stood in shock, her hands still in the position they were when they held the gun. She looked up at Sherlock with tears in her eyes. "Did I kill my sister?" She asked, a sudden changed in attitude.

Janice shoved past him and tried to get to her sister, who was being hovered over by John and Amy. "She didn't hit anywhere where Holly will bleed to death," John said just loud enough for Amy to hear. "I don't know if I can get the bullet out here."

"Mummy," Holly raised her head. "I don't feel anything. I don't feel pain."

"Do you mind? I need to remove her shirt?" John asked. "I'm a doctor, I can try to remove the bullet."

"Go ahead, Dr. Watson," Amy allowed him. John pulled open the girls shirt to see where the bullet hit her. A dark, thick stone hung low on a necklace. "Holly, is this the one daddy left you?"

"I tuck it into my shirt so Janice doesn't hurt me with the chain," Holly said softly.

"The bullet wedged into the rock and barely pierced her skin," John said, shocked. "That… I've never seen that before."

Amy started crying and brought Holly into her arms. Janice looked at Sherlock and Watson. "Who are you people?" She asked, looking between them. "What happened?"

"John," Sherlock grabbed Watson's wrist and dragged him aside, away from the family. "She has multiple personalities."

"Or she's just a psycho!" John whispered sharply. "Two people have been injured today. One of them I love to death. Another was a _child_."

"She doesn't even recall what happened!" Sherlock said equally as loud. "She has a problem and she needs to be locked away."

"A mental institution?" John asked.

"God, John. Of course a-"

"You get away from us, you beast!" Amy screamed. Sherlock and John turned their attention to the family. Amy had Holly, and Janice had her arm out to touch Holly. She started crying. "Mr. Holmes, please take this monster away!"

Sherlock grabbed Janice, who was sobbing now. "John, call Lestrade!" Sherlock snapped as he guided the child out of the room. John rolled his eyes.

"Second time today the police had to come here," John muttered under his breath, pulling out his mobile.

* * *

><p>Sherlock flopped down on the couch. "What an eventful day it has been," He said happily. John typed away on his laptop. "Eh. I'm bored again." He flipped over a few times on the couch and groaned.<p>

He got up and moved over to John. "John. Jooooohhhnnnn. Jawn!" He said multiple times before Watson finally said:

"What?!"

"I love you," Sherlock smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock lay stretched out on the couch, his laptop on his legs. He glanced at the time and wondered where on earth Watson was. He yawned and stretched his arms out. He continued typing to Amy about choices for Janice.

"Sherlock!" John stumbled through the door. "I had _fun."_

"John? Are you drunk?" Sherlock asked, sitting up and closing his laptop. John almost fell over after a few steps towards Sherlock. "Woah, sit down."

Sherlock helped John sit down on the couch and he sat down next to him. "Why did you go out and get drunk?" Sherlock asked him. John just chuckled and swayed back and forth like a child.

"Bored," He said in a giggly tone. "Bored, bored, bored. The lady bartender hit on me and I said 'I'm gay' and she laughed and said '_suuureee'_" John grinned as he spoke.

He leaned over and kissed Sherlock, still grinning. "John you stink!" Sherlock pushed him aside. "You smell of beer and its disgusting."

"You _love _it!" John laughed, grabbing Sherlock's jaw and pulling him closer. He licked his cheek and then fell back into the couch with a series of giggles.

"John, you are acting like a child!" Sherlock snapped at John, who continued to giggle. "Stop acting this way! And why is there a sticky note on your arm?"

John squinted his eyes and stared at the paper on his arm. "Oh! Cabby's number. I threw up in his cab and he wants me to pay for it."

"John!" Sherlock shouted. John sat up and fell limply into Sherlock's lap. "John, stop this!"

John inched his fingers up to Sherlock's pants button. He fumbled with it for a minute. "Serlock?" He slurred. "Help mee"

John hiccupped and looked up at Sherlock. Sherlock shook his head and got up, leaving Watson to lie there. "John, you need to sleep."

Watson talked Sherlock and pinned him to the ground, smiling. "You know what I" *hiccup* "want."

"John!" Sherlock snapped for the hundredth time. "Get off me and go lay down!"

John laid his head on Sherlock's chest and stayed silent. He started snoring and drooling onto Sherlock's shirt.

Sherlock pushed Watson off of him and got up, eyeing his partner. "John?" He asked. He finally picked Watson up and laid him in their bed, a blanket on top of him. He kissed his cheek and flicked off all the lights, leaving to go make his bed on the couch.

* * *

><p>John stumbled out into the living room early the next morning. "Sherlock, where's my shirt?" he asked, holding his eyes. "God, I have a terrible headache. What happened last night?"<p>

Sherlock looked up. "You got really drunk. And I have no idea what happened to your shirt, perhaps you _vomited _on it," Sherlock was beginning to scold John, and then he noticed something littering John's upper arms. "John, what's that?"

He got up and went over to where Watson was standing. Watson, hung over badly and unaware that Sherlock was approaching him, stood there goofily. Sherlock grabbed his arms and studied them. "When did this happen?"

Watson finally snapped back into reality and peered at the arm Sherlock was holding. "Oh.. _Oh." _Watson pulled back and saw Sherlock's blue robe draped over the chair. He grabbed it and put it on, backing away from Sherlock. "It happened in the past. Really, nothing bad anymore. Don't worry."

"There are tiny little scars all over your arms, and you're telling me not to worry?" Sherlock squinted his eyes and grabbed John. "Why would you?"

"I told you it was in the past," John pulled out of Sherlock's grasp and sat down in his chair. "I'm fine now."

Sherlock's throat began to hurt. There was a lump in it that was choking him. What were these feelings? Was he feeling pain over this? Sherlock usually didn't feel pain like this.

"Why?" Was all he could say. He kept repeating it in his head over and over again. Everywhere he looked, there were question marks. He didn't understand anything that was happening right now.

Watson didn't say anything in reply. He just sat there, wanting to cry. He couldn't believe Sherlock knew now. It was inevitable, at the rate their relationship was ascending, but he didn't want Sherlock to ever find out.

"Please, explain," Sherlock broke down, tears forming in his eyes. He fell to his knees next to Watson. "I don't understand. Why would you do that? I thought you were happy."

"It happened before I met you," John sucked in air to keep tears from falling. "I suffered bad PTSD after I returned to London. I didn't really know what I did sometimes. I would sit on my bed and the memories of the war would come back. And the pain I caused actually took those memories away for those minutes I bled."

Sherlock looked up at John and reached his hand out to stroke John's cheek. John started crying and moved Sherlock's hand away. He turned his head away in shame. He didn't want Sherlock to see him like this.

"Have you done it since we've been together?" Sherlock asked. John nodded quickly and turned back to face Sherlock.

"Once. I tried it and I didn't feel the same as I did before I moved in. I felt extreme pain and guilt and I decided I didn't need to do it anymore," John said softly, wiping tears on Sherlock's robe, which hung loosely on the small man.

"Promise me you'll never do it ever again?" Sherlock pleaded. He watched John nod, a small smile on that cute little face.

Sherlock dropped his head in John's lap and wept. "I don't understand, John. I don't understand you. Why you would be in pain and cause more pain on yourself."

"Sometimes we don't know what we do," John raised Sherlock's head and stared him in the eyes. He wiped Sherlock's tears with his free hand. "And sometimes we do things we shouldn't or things we don't mean to. There's no answer, you just do it. Sometimes you regret it, and sometimes you don't. I can assure you, I regretted every minute of it."

"Then why did you continue?" Sherlock drew in deep breaths.

John looked stumped. "Uh.." He thought for a moment, looking at the wall and at the smiley face. "It felt nice while I was doing it, and removing the memories was something I wanted to do quite often. So I kept doing it and when those pictures in my mind came back, I would do it again."

"John…" Sherlock whispered softly, grabbing a fistful of his robe that John was wearing and clenching it. "I feel a pain over you that I have never felt before."

John took a deep breath. "It's called love," He said gently, leaning down and kissing the top of Sherlock's head.

The deep brown, almost black, curls tickled his face. He moved his hand to Sherlock's shoulder and helped him to stand up. "Now stop weeping. I'm better now. I'm much, much happier."

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked. Watson chuckled and wiped Sherlock's cheeks with the sleeve of the robe.

"Positive."

**Author's Note: **This chapter was more of a filler and I wanted to give a little humor and some feels as well. Thank you all for reading C:


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